


Mutiny of One

by Jarakrisafis



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-10
Updated: 2011-11-10
Packaged: 2017-10-25 22:19:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/275443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jarakrisafis/pseuds/Jarakrisafis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Megatron is confused, Starscream is bemused, Soundwave is amused, Ratchet is on strike.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mutiny of One

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a prompt on the lj group tfanonkink where somebody suggested that Ratchet would make the worst slave. To quote the anon: 'he could take the term "white mutiny" to whole new levels of deviousness, without ever fragging off his new slave coding.'

Megatron sighed as Breakdown flinched away from the mech looming over his shoulder. Any more and the paranoid glitch would be on the floor instead of watching the monitors.

“Ratchet.” He said; the mech in question turning to regard him quizzically. It was time to see if the new coding they had installed into his subroutines was all that Shockwave said it should be. Admittedly he had followed him up to the control room without a problem, but it was better to be sure (and if he didn’t get the Autobot to move Breakdown might just live up to his name).

“Come here. Sit down.”

Some brave mech sniggered as Megatron glared at the smirking ambulance who had obediently sat down in the centre of the control room.

“Come here and sit here.” He reiterated, emphasising the command with a clawed finger pointing to the base of his throne.

Well, it was an improvement Megatron supposed as he glared at the medic who had at least sat where requested this time. He had also turned his back on the Warlord and was lounging against one of his legs as if he owned the place.

Maybe it would take the coding a little while to integrate correctly so that he would obey properly. That was probably it. After all, Shockwave had said the coding would force him to obey any command from his master, obviously it was taking it literally until it settled.

Nudging the ambulance off his leg he stared down at the impudent medic who had simply rearranged himself to lean against his throne.

“Turn round.” The slagger would learn not to turn his back on his new master.

This time several snickers were heard before mechs managed to turn off vocalisers as the medic did as asked... and promptly clattered backwards off the small raised dais to sprawl in a heap.

Megatron snarled when the medic had the audacity to waggle his fingers in a wave at him.

This would not do. “Ratchet, come with me.” He stepped over the Autobot and strode towards the doors. It wasn’t until he was near the doors that he realised that there was dead silence from behind him rather than a second set of footsteps.

“Ratchet. Come. Here.” He repeated with a growl when the ambulance remained on the control room floor, hands laced behind his helm as he hummed an offbeat tune.

“I’m coming oh Mighty Master.” The medic said before his lips curved up into a wicked smirk. “In about twenty breems.”

Oh for the love of Unicron. This was getting ridiculous. “Ratchet. Get over here now.”

Better, he thought as the Autobot got to his feet and obediently came to stand next to him. Leaving the control room he made it halfway down the corridor before realising he was once again alone. Resisting the urge to bang his helm against the wall he cursed Shockwave for forgetting to tell him just how detailed the orders needed to be.

The medic was exactly where he had been left, slowly counting under his breath. “Thirty four seconds.” He said brightly before yelping as Megatron shot out a clawed hand and latched onto his chevron.

Ignoring the grumbled curses the Warlord towed the protesting medic along the corridors to his quarters.

“I told you it wouldn’t work.”

“Of course it worked.” Ratchet said as Megatron let go of his chevron to raise his fusion cannon at a smug looking Starscream. “Although that depends upon your definition of ‘it’. If by ‘it' you mean has the coding settled correctly then the answer is probably yes, although again it depends upon your definition of ‘correctly’. If however ‘it’ means that I will become a loyal, obedient slave then the answer is most definitely a negative. Or of course by ‘it’ you could mean my Mighty Masters ability to give coherent, intelligent orders then again it is unfortunately once again a resounding no. I suppose you could also mean the tactics used in the last battle but I am obliged to inform you that Prime is still alive and kicked your afts.”

Starscream tilted his helm to one side, much like a turbohawk trying to decide whether something was prey or not, while Megatron just raised an optical ridge, his entire chassis screaming confusion as he stared at the medic.

Ratchet just shrugged as Megatron latched onto his arm and resumed his pathway to his quarters, leaving Starscream trying to figure out if he had been insulted or not.

Soundwave inclined his helm to Megatron as the Warlord went past, the red and white medic obediently sauntering along behind him, a smirk fixed on his faceplates.

Which only got bigger as the telepathic mech sent him a message “Starscream, Megatron: confused. Medics humour: appreciated.”

His grin remained in place all the way to Megatron’s quarters.

“Sit down.” Megatron said as he locked the door. Last thing he needed was the Autobot finding some way to sneak out and go wandering round the ship.

Turning back around he fought the urge to growl as stacks of datapads were sent clattering across the floor as the medic hopped up onto his desk and sat down.

“Get. Off. My. Desk.”

Ratchet tilted his head to one side as if contemplating whether the order was worth following before he climbed down.

“Through there. Berth.” He had contemplated asking the medic to pick up the pads, but he wasn’t sure whether he trusted the Autobot to manage to find some way to destroy them.

“You’re right, there is a berth.” This time he didn’t manage to suppress the growl at the medics surprised observation as he leant against the berthroom door looking stunned. “Seriously, who puts berths in berthrooms?” He would be having words with Shockwave next time he saw him, he had said the bot would be loyal and obedient.

“Just get on the berth.” Megatron said, “and lie down.” He added, quickly amending the order as Ratchet jumped up, the metallic mesh under his feet straining under his weight.

“Move over.” He half expected the clatter of limbs as Ratchet hit the floor, unfortunately he was just too late to clarify that the medic was to move over towards the side of the berth against the wall.

If it wasn’t for the fact that his army really needed a decent medic (and he really wanted the bot to accept him as a berthmate) then he’d be returning him to the Ark as soon as possible. How the frag did he manage to twist everything that was said to him?

“Lie down on the berth near the wall. Remain there over the night cycle, recharge without murdering me while I’m offline, shunting me off the berth, getting yourself off the berth, in fact, don’t do anything except recharge.”

Ratchet tilted his helm as he took in the list of orders before finally clambering back up and tucking himself into a ball on the far side of the berth.

It was a start.

Megatron stretched out before pulling the smaller mech into his arms, the medic tensed, before calmly planting an elbow into his abdominal plating, quickly shuffling back over to the wall when Megatron let go to clutch his dented armour. Apparently, his orders hadn’t covered elbows to the gut.

Ah well. He had plenty of time to convince the medic to ‘face with him out of his own free will. If the glitch didn’t drive him crazy, of course.


End file.
